


Daughters of Flame

by Offbrand_Valk



Series: Warbringer's Wife AU [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, I dunno i just wanted to post something cause its been ages, I take hammer and fix the canon, Spinoff, Sylvanas kills a man with her teeth at one point, or as I like to call it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:45:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offbrand_Valk/pseuds/Offbrand_Valk
Summary: A twoshot set in my "Warbringer's Wife" AU - Though can sorta be read as a standaloneA few months after the battle for Deemspring Spire, one of the elders under Sylvanas' protection goes missing. One thing leads to another and suddenly Sylvanas and Veline are trapped high in the mountains, injured and surrounded by enemies.
Relationships: Sylvanas Windrunner/Original Character(s)
Series: Warbringer's Wife AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605931
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Warbringer's Wife, you can find it [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258299/chapters/48015202)
> 
> If you just wanna read this fic but still avoid spoilers, then just skip the first paragraph, as that references the events of chapter 5 and 6

Sylvanas was trying to be a patient and charitable ranger captain. House Windrunner did not have the popularity in the midlands they did in the south, and killing a ranger captain of 600 years did nothing to change that, no matter how ineffectual he might have been. After recovering from the battle of Deemspring spire, Sylvanas had been hard at work trying to endear herself to the locals, while keeping on top of her duties as captain of an understaffed lodge. She had slowly but surely been ingratiating herself with the peasants and nobility of Aurendar, though doing so had come at the cost of very little sleep, and a lot of forced smiles as she retrieved Sun-knows-how-many pet lynxes from trees.

So when Lyana informed her that her grandmother, elder Luzara Cinderebloom, had gone missing during the night, it took all of Sylvanas mental fortitude to organize a search party, rather than say something frankly unsavory about the honorable elders mental health. Yet here she was: dutifully still out at dusk calling the elder’s name every minute.

Most of the others had already gone home, there were lifestock that had to be called in for the night, and little ones to put to bed. That left only those duty bound still out looking. Lyana’s parents had gone west, in case elder Cinderbloom had gone to visit their relatives in Sunsail and forgot to tell them, and her older brother had been sent to his cousins in the East Sanctum if she had come that way. That left Sylvanas, Lyana, her twin sister Landra, Jennalla and a very sleepy Veline looking south. It was the pragmatic choice, had Lyzara headed north, then she could be anywhere by now, whereas to the south, the Sunfeather mountains formed a natural barrier even skilled mountaineers had trouble crossing. And if somehow she had attempted to climb it, then every minute might well count.

“Jenn, tell your thrice damned hell-pigeon to quiet down, I’ve got enough worries without also getting an eardrum blown out.” Lyana sneered as Jennalla’s pet dragonhawk Wanderwing shrieked by to inform them she still could not see any elves ahead. “Lya do you-” Sylvanas silenced them with a raised fist. “Cinderbloom, don’t start this, Deemspring you can pick this up when we return to Fairbreeze village.” The pair glared at each other for a moment, then smiled and nodded. They had all been on their feet since before midday, and they knew how much the Cinderbloom matriarch meant to the twins.

“Does anyone else smell that?” Landra said, speaking anything but her grandmother’s name for the first time since lunch. All three rangers stopped and sniffed the air.

“Ash.” Sylvanas concluded, making Veline shriek: “you said they weren’t that burnt!” and clutch her sack of cinnamon rolls defensively.

“Not that.” Sylvanas hissed, crouching low and drawing her sword. “Magical ash, someone used fire magic.”

The rangers stalked towards the scent, while the magister-apprentice and the peasant stayed back. In truth it wasn’t a scent, so much as an expression of Quel’dorei affinity for magic, and it was a weak sensing at that. The rangers’ first thought had been a minor use but when they came closer they realized nothing could be further from the truth.

At the foot of the mountain path, the scent of ash was joined by the rancid stench of scorched flesh. Not a minute later they found the source: In a nook along the mountain road lay four corpses, clearly the victims of one or several fire spells. The corpses were getting cold, a few more hours and the vultures would arrive. The remains were dressed in black, orange and purple, a particularly gaudy combination that Sylvanas couldn’t attribute to any elven house off the top of her head.

“There’s a good reason for that.” Jennalla remarked when Sylvanas spoke her observation, she was holding a straight-edged, broad-bladed sword of low-grade steel. A human sword, wielded by what was now clearly human hands. “They should not be this far north right?” Veline asked, staunchly closing her eyes to avoid looking at the gruesome scene.

“Not without an escort no, but that’s a matter for later.” Sylvanas looked back to the corpses. Quel’Thalas had no tolerance for trespassers, and soon enough Sylvanas would need to ask her conclave’s aid in hunting down any other stray trespasser; Quel’Thalas took its policy of “one bone broken for every twig snapped” very seriously. Until then Sylvanas had more pressing concerns: “Landra, what’s your take on this scene?”

Lyana’s twin sister, the apprentice mage stepped past the corpses and looked around in thought. Using her wand, as she had yet to earn her staff, Landra poked experimentally at several of the burnmark, and shone magelight on the mountainside. With a gesture, her twin came over and turned over a corpse with a strange wound where his right eye should be. “Hm, cinderstorm.” She said to nobody in particular, and gestured for Lyana to let the corpse be. “They were pacing themselves, the fire mage I mean. At the academy we are taught that fire magic is about overwhelming force, but this seems almost surgical. I’m going off what I remember from _intro to war magic_ , but this is something you would do when you knew more fights were coming before you could rest.”

“So the other party is a war mage?” Sylvanas instinctively grasped her shortsword a little tighter, wishing she had brought her bow and a selection of poisons. “Not necessarily. Could also just be they paid more attention in class than me, or took an elective.”

Sylvanas released her grip slightly. “Then I ask: is this something your grandmother could have done?” Lyana and Landra both paused and looked to each other. Like this it was easy to see that Landra was her sister’s twin. Their aesthetics might have been night and day: Landra feminine where Lyana was butch; Landra’s long ochre hair was the exact same type of uncombed as Lyana’s fauxhawk, the stains on their shirts matched exactly, and they were wearing the same unflattering, but thoughtful expression.

“Grandmother did study fire magic at Falthrien.” Lyana said after a few more moments of the twins looking at each other. “And interned at Thas’Alah.” Landra chimed in. “This could have been her.” They said in unison.

With her evaluation of Luzara Cinderbloom severely revised, Sylvanas led them up the mountain path, though she would rather lead them just about anywhere else, including into an Amani bear pen. The Sunfeathers were a maze of winding paths, and what they lacked in height, they made up for in magical predators and uneven ground.

After the third time Wanderwing nearly became a gryphon’s dinner, they gave up using her to scout around, which further blinded them on the dark cliff side. Sylvanas was contemplating turning them around for the sake of their safety, when they found another corpse dangling off a tree a few meters above. As a good captain, Sylvanas volunteered to climb up and investigate.

Sure enough, it was another human with a scorched chest, though from what Sylvanas could tell, it had been the fall, not the fire that had killed them. It was a nasty way to go, though in all honestly less so than what the Farstriders would have done. Still, they were in luck, looking up there was only one plateau from which the human could have fallen, and Sun be praised their bow and arrows had survived the fall. Jennalla got to carry it as she won rock, parchment, shears; despite already carrying a magical sword from the founding of Quel’Thalas, not that Sylvanas was bitter or anything.

30 minutes later and they had made their way to the plateau with fatigue rapidly setting in. There were signs of combat but the first thing any of them noticed was the pool of fresh water. Despite their waterskins having long since run out, the rangers dutifully investigated the water to the best of their ability before anyone was permitted to drink. Once they had drunk their fill came the task of identifying the scene.

At first glance the scene looked similar to the one at the foot of the mountain, the charred remains of four humans were spread across a large area. Then Sylvanas found a piece of half molten rock lodged in a tree, Landra confirmed what Sylvanas already suspected: there was a second spellcaster. Thalassian mages held lava conjuration in contempt, it was considered a primitive and inefficient use of magic, unfit for life and death situations. But among the dwarves and humans of Stromgarde, it was commonly taught to fire mages.

From here, elder Cinderbloom, assuming she was their mystery fire mage, could have gone any number of ways. To the east lay yet more mountains, not tall enough to be snowcapped in Quel’Thalas eternal spring, but tall enough to be an unpleasant climb in afternoon clothes; to the south lay a wider path down the mountain; to the west was a deep crevasse, but no wider than it could be leapt or blinked across; and to the north was the road from whence they came, and Veline sleeping gently against a seared tree stump.

Sylvanas felt her heart soften, Veline cared for her elder like all of Fairbreeze, but she had not the endurance of a ranger nor the duty of family, nonetheless she had literally followed them up a mountain without complaint. As if by magic, Sylvanas felt her own eyelids getting heavy, and it took several seconds of gathering her strength to pull herself back awake. They didn’t have the energy to get safely back down, and they had no reason to believe there weren’t more humans skulking about the mountains. The only sane choice was to find somewhere hidden and hunker down and get some sleep.

A few bushes and a boulder two minutes down the way they had come would have to suffice. Sylvanas tenderly scooped Veline into her arms, making her shake her head and yowl like a kitten pulled from its sun beam. “Go back to sleep dearest.” Sylvanas whispered, and having made sure no one else was looking, pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. Veline jawned, and nuzzle into Sylvanas shoulder, pulling the ranger’s cloak over herself like a duvet.

They hung a tripwire with a bell along 20 meters up and down the road from their sleeping spot, but still opted to leave a sentry awake, with Lyana agreeing to take first watch.

* * *

Sylvanas awoke to the cry of a nightingale: a ranger’s call signaling the approach of enemies. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and to her side Lyana was also stealthily stirring. Landra and Veline remained blissfully asleep.

Jennalla crawled on all fours into view from among the undergrowth, and gestured for them to retreat. Sylvanas asked for a number, “Too many.” Jennalla answered.

Carefully, Sylvanas shook Veline awake, all three rangers froze then rushed to clasp a hand over her mouth as she stretched and yawned.

“What’s go-” Lyana did a swirled around to slam a hand over her sister’s mouth.

“More trespassers.” Jennalla hissed, Sylvanas had no doubt her heart was beating as fast as her own.

“Up or down.” Sylvanas kept one hand on her sword as she scrambled to pack up.

“Down, five minutes, maybe ten, at least one spellcaster in their numbers.”

“Only one way for us to go then.” Sylvanas said, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and climbing out from their hiding spot.

Too many was right Sylvanas noted to herself as she glanced over the edge. The humans had learned from last night’s incident and brought not just scouts, but soldiers armed wearing mail and helmets. For a moment she considered dislodging the boulder they had been sleeping behind, but quickly rejected it. The “shot” was likely to go wide, and if it did, they would have given away their presence, and wasted precious seconds moving the boulder.

Crouched and hugging the mountainside to stay out of sight the five elves slowly ascended. Veline and Landra made an admirable attempt at sneaking, but to Sylvanas trained ears they might as well be stomping around with bells on their feet. From what Sylvanas remembered of last night, the south side provided even less cover than the Aurendar side, and because it didn’t lead into hills, they would have even further to climb before reaching the bottom. Her plan was simple, once they reached the top, they would throw caution to the wind, and run down the mountain as fast as they safely could.

It was by no means a great plan, but it was all they had.

And even that plan was dashed when they reached the top where they snuck face first into a party of forward scouts.

Timed slowed to a crawl; a scout raised his horn to his lips; Sylvanas broke into a sprint. An arrow whizzed past her ear, it struck the would-be hornblower in the shoulder, causing him to stagger but still clutch his horn.

Sylvanas vaulted over a scout charging against her with sword drawn. A second scout nearly reached her, before being tackled out of the way by Lyana.

Scout number three was felled by an arrow through the throat before he got near her.

Still Sylvanas was not close enough to stop the last scout from raising his horn. She conjured as much wildfire as she could manage, leapt and flung as best she could.

It struck true, enveloping the scout in flames just as the first notes sounded.

It was too late, the dull roar echoed across the Sunfeather mountains, and in the distance Sylvanas heard the sound of heavy shoes picking up speed.

Wasting no time, Sylvanas grabbed Veline’s hand, Lyana grabbed her twin, and Jennalla grabbed her spent arrows. They ran towards the nearest path going south, only to see more soldiers come barreling up it. They tried another path with the same result. The rope was closing around their neck and Sylvanas only saw one way out.

“Scatter!”She yelled without breaking her sprint. Lyana, Landra, and Jennalla each took off running in separate direction, Veline made to do the same, but Sylvanas held on to her hand and directed her towards the chasm.

Meanwhile most of the brigands coming from the Aurendar side had reached the plateau, with no one else in sight they moved to encircle Sylvanas and Veline.

From the side, Sylvanas saw an orange flash. She threw herself and Veline to the ground just in time to have a ball of molten fire miss them by a hair’s breadth.

In a snap Sylvanas was back on her feet, but Veline was getting tangled in her dress and struggled to get up. With the trespassers closing in, Sylvanas grabbed Veline around her waist, slung her over her shoulder like a sack of grain, and broke into sprint once more.

The chasm was rapidly closing in, Sylvanas was committed.

She leapt.

And hit the edge of the opposing cliff face first, making everything turn white.

Veline was flung on top of the opposing plateau by the momentum of Sylvanas jump. She screamed in pain as Sylvanas entire weight was suddenly placed on her right leg that had been dangling over the ledge. Pushing through the pain she used her free leg and hands to help Sylvanas pull herself up unto the plateau.

Veline’s leg was numb, and bend at an unnatural angle. Sylvanas was shaky but on her feet, the dizziness from the blow written across her face.

On the other side of the chasm, a man carrying a staff, and wearing a robe walked out from the crowd of trespassers. With a smirk he waved for the others to lower their weapons and blinked across.

The mage towered over Veline, his eyes glowed with magic as he began speaking words of power. A moment later his chant was broken by a loud gasp of pain, as Veline’s heel hit his groin.

Veline could hear the rest of the trespassers laugh, as the mage pulled a face from the low blow. Her focus however was on Sylvanas, who had collected herself enough to draw her sword and swing at the mage.

The strike missed on account of Sylvanas still seeing double.

The mage’s counter attack was foiled by Veline kicking out his legs from under him.

Sylvanas, relying on strength over skill, slammed her shoulder into his chest with a grunt. He screamed in panic as he fell for a long second, then came a meaty thud, and deafening silence.

The pair had no time to cherish their victory, as the trespasser were falling over each other to grab and load their crossbows. Sylvanas helped Veline stand, and Veline directed them into cover of the trees. Fortunately the trespassers were no elven rangers, and by the time the first bolt went flying, they had old pine trees to use as cover.

The trespassers’ had brought heavy crossbows, the kind that pierced plate and splintered bones, but they got lost among the dense pines and as tradeoff took a long time to reload. After the third volley, Sylvanas and Veline were so far into the thicket, they could neither hear nor see the trespassers.

Sylvanas vision was still blurry, and she was having trouble remembering how exactly she got on top of a mountain, but her training still stood clear in her mind. Sooner or later their pursuers would find a way around or across the chasm, so they needed to extend their lead while they had it.

Veline made an admirable attempt at remaining quiet as she hobbled along putting most of her weight on Sylvanas shoulder. It cut Sylvanas heart to see her like that, tears in the corner of her eyes, biting down on her lower lip in determination not to give a voice to the pain. She couldn’t let it get to her, not yet, had to focus on keeping them safe. First they had to find a place to lie low for long enough to inspect their injuries then… Sylvanas couldn’t think that far ahead, without everything blurring together and the ground seeming to close in on her.

By the Sun she just wanted a nap.

* * *

“It’s safe now, you can speak.” It wasn’t really, they were only a few minutes of slow walk from the chasm, with only the pines to hide them from sight. It was the best they could do as they were: injured and in unfamiliar territory.

Veline took a deep breath. “Mother FLUFFER!” Sylvanas guided her into a sitting position with no pressure on her leg while cooing softly. Veline oscillated between whimpering and crying as Sylvanas to the best of her abilities inspected the injury she had accidentally inflicted her. The leg was broken, of that there was no doubt; how to deal with it was another matter entirely. The branches of pines were too flexible to properly splint the leg, and Sylvanas was as far from a skilled healer one could get while still technically knowing healing spells. Rummaging through her bags, Sylvanas realized there was one thing she could make a splint of.

Sylvanas put her hands around Veline’s face to calm her and said: “My dearest, I am going to splint your legs, it will hurt for a moment, then ease the pain and prevent you from worsening. Are you ready for me to do this? Veline put on a brave face, nodded, and closed her eyes while turning her face away from her leg. Sylvanas unsheathed her sword and wrapped it in a blanket. Then she unbuckled her belt and removed the scabbard from it. She placed the blanketed sword on one side of Veline’s leg, and the scabbard on the other, then she lifted Veline’s leg so she could get the rope under. ”Ahh… heck!“ Veline cried out, causing Sylvanas to drop the leg in surprise, which only made her whimper louder. ”Sorry sorry, I should have warned you.“ Sylvanas could feel her heart beat spike, it was a rookie mistake, and this was nowhere near the time for those.

Why was she so anxious all of a sudden? Her hands were shaking as she wrapped the rope around Veline’s leg, and her vision was blurring again. Before she could slide further into despair Veline put a hand on her cheek. “My dearest, relax, we’ve got this.” Sylvanas took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, yeah we do… Of course we do!” Sylvanas mostly believed her own swagger.

With Veline’s leg safely splinted they continued westwards. Given her current condition, it didn’t much matter that Sylvanas had given up her sword to help Veline walk, and now only had Veline’s dagger to protect them with. She got dizzy if she tried to walk at a brisk pace, and had already puked up not only last night’s dinner, but the water Veline made her drink after the first time she puked. Sylvanas had trained Veline in combat yes, but only enough to defend herself from an untrained attacker, not to take on a unit of mercenaries with only a single, heavy, hooked dagger; which would have been a tall order even for Sylvanas with her nearly two centuries of combat experience. Sneaking down was a none-option in her current state; too few places to hide, and if Sylvanas died from dizzily falling off a cliff, Alleria might well kill herself just to give her shit about it in the afterlife.

What they needed, was a place to lie low, preferably until sundown, but even just a few hours for Sylvanas’ concussion to secede could mean life or death. The Sunfeathers however were not cooperating. All they found were wide chasms, treacherous ground, and the occasional clump of trees. There weren’t even any safe routes down, only a winding, uneven stretch heading upwards and westwards. She swore it was like someone had deliberately made the area as inaccessible as possible.

Eventually they had to settle for a jagged mountaintop, as Sylvanas legs could not carry her much further. They were visible from two sides for anyone with a sharp eye. It didn’t matter: as they couldn’t hide, fighting on favorable terrain was their best option; they had cover against arrows, and anyone who wanted to reach them could be pelted with rocks or pushed back down. With the Sun on their side, both literally and metaphorically, Sylvanas estimated they could take on two maybe three brigands in their current state

.

With a groan Sylvanas slid down against a boulder, Veline whimpering slightly as she slowly followed suit while keeping pressure off her broken leg. “Are you okay Sylvanas? I’ve never seen you like this before.” Sylvanas wasn’t, but Veline didn’t need to know that. “That is to say: I’ve never seen you like this, _outside the bedroom_.”

Sylvanas did a double take, Veline smirked, and Sylvanas laughed out loud. “Oh you have seen me exhausted in the bedroom have you? Would that be during or after you usually turn catatonic?”

Veline snorted and giggled. “Oh I am very lucid even in those periods.”

“Just not much for reciprocating then?”

Veline’s smile turned to a frown. “I thought that was the way you liked it?”

Sylvanas winced and leaned over to place a comforting kiss on Veline’s lips. “It is, I’m just teasing you.”

With a dreamy smile back on her lips Veline nodded. “It’s how I like it too.”

“Oh of that I had no doubt, in fact, had my bedroom not been enchanted to keep noise in, I’m sure everyone from Eaglepass to Dewfruit village would know.”

“Sylvanas!” Veline gasped, then laughed again.

* * *

Sylvanas didn’t know how long they spent on that mountaintop resting and chatting peacefully. Maybe an hour? Two if they were being generous. She was feeling better, however not so much so that she wasn’t dreading standing up, much less facing the trespassers she could hear scampering about beneath.

They hadn’t spotted Sylvanas and Veline yet, but it was only a matter of time before one of the brigands had the bright idea of looking up whilst ascending a mountain. They could relocate, though it would just result in them getting found slightly later and in a less advantageous position.

Veline had quieted the moment she saw Sylvanas ears perk up. Now she too had heard the humans approaching and was crouching down low behind a boulder to avoid being seen. Meanwhile Sylvanas did her best to get a count and prepare for combat despite her head still reeling. _Eight_ , she signed to Veline who nodded, unsure what to do with herself. Sylvanas sword was still strapped to Veline’s leg, leaving her with only the dagger she had bought Veline in Silvermoon to defend them with. Untying the splint would take time, and if the worst came to pass, as it seemed likely to do, Veline would have no hope of escaping.

Ideally, Sylvanas needed to isolate one of the brigands to rob him of his sword. The easiest way to do that would be to get down on their level, and Sylvanas momentarily considered using Veline as bait. The choice was ultimately made for her, when in all her shifting Sylvanas kicked a lose rock that began tumbling downwards making much more noise than seemed at all reasonable to Sylvanas. The brigands spoke to each other in loud whispers, between their hushed tones, unfamiliar accents, and Sylvanas less than stellar Common, all Sylvanas could make out was: “You and you.”

Sylvanas praised both the Sun and the Ancients, a gesture that would anger adherents of both faiths. The brigands sending only two of their numbers meant they had a chance, however slim. She and Veline would certainly be spotted before the brigands got within striking distance, then their compatriots would still need to ascend the sloped and treacherous path towards them. If all went well, Sylvanas would have a sword in each hand by the time the other six trespassers reached her. With a deep breath, Sylvanas channeled her remaining mana inwards, casting a simple yet powerful healing spell that would grant her a few minutes of clarity. It was mana she could have spent on wildfire, but now it was too late to reconsider.

Sylvanas stepped into view of the trespassers. Just as expected, the pair yelled to their compatriot then came running at her single file. Sylvanas slid effortlessly down to meet them, keeping the front brigand as a barrier between her and the one in the rear.

The brigand in front swung at her, and Sylvanas mistakenly stepped backwards, nearly losing her footing. He pressed his advantage, striking from the other side. Sylvanas met it with Veline’s dagger, locking their blades and following up with an open palm strike against the bridge of his nose.

The brigand fell to his knees with a whine, clutching his bloody nose with both hands as his sword tumbled gleefully down and out of Sylvanas reach. His compatriot shoved him mercilessly to the side and lunged at Sylvanas.

Having learned from her previous mistake, Sylvanas turned the thrust aside. The brigand, mirroring Sylvanas previous actions, followed up with a punch that she grabbed and twisted. Before she could turn it into a full grapple, the brigand made a pommel strike that she had to bow low to avoid, putting herself in an awkward stance.

Rather than try to return to a standing position, Sylvanas dove in between the brigand’s legs and with all her strength lifted him up over her head and flung him behind her. He hit the ground with an audible crack.

Sylvanas reached for his sword and heard a roar to her right. The trespasser with the broken nose had gotten back on his feet. Sylvanas hesitated, either she finished her move for the sword, or she fought with what she had. He stepped towards her and suddenly a rock hit him on the cheek. He flinched and turn to face Veline, who immediately struck him with another rock. The last thing he saw was Veline reaching for yet more rocks to throw, when Sylvanas pierced his throat with the tip of his compatriot’s sword.

Sylvanas and Veline had just enough time to draw a breath of relief before the rest of the trespassers reached them. Despite the rocky ground, they were smart enough to move to encircle Sylvanas. Veline kept throwing rocks at them, but they were wearing armor, and she wasn’t exactly known for her throwing arm.

Sylvanas cautiously lunged against one of them, but quickly retracted when her stroke was parried. She returned to center rather than follow up, she could not afford aggression. None of the trespassers moved to follow her. They had read the same outcome as her: Sylvanas would lose, but not without taking some of their numbers to their urn and none of them were feeling particularly self-sacrificing.

They continued like that for a while, prodding and probing each others’ defenses, neither party ever committing to an attack. The healing spell was holding strong, for how much longer though, Sylvanas couldn’t say.

The brigand furthest to her right tried moving up the mountain and behind Sylvanas. It was as close to an opening as she would get, and she took it. He parried her first strike, then lowered his guard, expecting Sylvanas to again return to center. Instead she turned her sword in a wide arch, severing his leg at the back of the knee. With his center of gravity suddenly changed, he was helpless to stop his fall down the mountain and off a cliff.

Sylvanas spun around on the spot to face the other trespassers that were now advancing quickly on her. One was distracted by a rock hitting his helmet, Sylvanas moved to strike at his exposed throat, but had to twist both blade and body to avoid two other strikes aimed at her.

A third grazed her shoulder, and while Sylvanas was parrying a fourth sword, she kicked back the one who had grazed her.

Again she spun around to block yet more sword strikes, accepting that she was well and truly surrounded.

Her heart was beating like a galloping horse as she twisted and turned. A parry was followed by an elbow to the jaw, a dodge with a pommel strike to the kidneys. One swung his sword too low and had it torn from his hand. Sylvanas was unable to take advantage of it though, as she immediately had to dodge and weave in the ever narrowing circle of enemies.

Another lucky strike to her abdomen slowed her enough to get tripped up. Veline gasped in anguish as Sylvanas sword was kicked out of reach.

A grinning guard plunged his sword down upon her, but Sylvanas rolled out of the way in the last moment. He lifted his sword to strike again. Sylvanas grabbed Veline’s dagger by the blade and flung it.

The dagger struck the grinning brigand right between the eyes, Thalassian steel easily overpowering bone and the low-grade metal of his helmet. Now Sylvanas was unarmed

Another brigand took his place, saying something no doubt both lecherous and distasteful in common as a rock struck his back with little force. He kicked Sylvanas in the side with an armored boot and she heard her ribs crack.

He made to speak again, Sylvanas used his inattention to swing her body around and kick his legs out from under him. Sylvanas grabbed him as he fell, keeping him above her to use as a shield against the other brigands.

Choking him out, as the maneuver had been taught to Sylvanas was not an option. He struggled too much, fatigue was setting in for her, and for all she knew, the other brigands might well choose to stab her through him. That left only one option.

Sylvanas bared her fangs and bit deep into the brigand’s neck. With an animalistic scream and a spray of blood she tore flesh from his throat. The brigands were so shocked they instinctively took several steps back, as Sylvanas pushed his dying body of her and slowly stood back up, her victim’s sword in hand.

With a bloody grin she spat out her “trophy”. Then she felt her legs grow weak, and her head start pounding. Their only chance of surviving was Sylvanas moving while the brigands were hesitating. She didn’t need to kill them, just convince them they had lost the fight.

But she had no more reserves to draw on. Her arms were leaden, her legs felt tied to the ground and the brigands were slowly getting wise to it.

There was a surge of mana, then a stream of pebble sized fireballs darted up the mountainside tracing pure red trails behind them. With surgical precision, the cinders struck the brigands in their vital parts, killing them instantly.

On the path below stood elder Luzara Cinderbloom, wielding a heavy staff, headed by a pair of wings cradling a glowing orb. “Captain Windrunner? What in the blazes are you doing up here?” In a burning flash, Luzara appeared in front of her. “And why in the Sun’s name did you bring Veline with you?”

Attempting to speak, Sylvanas only managed to spit a mouthful of vomit and what she hoped wasn’t her own blood. Veline staggered down to her side and latched unto her arm for dear life. “We were looking for you elder Cinderbloom, you disappeared so suddenly, we feared the worst might’ve happened. And then we saw human corpses, and then more of them up the mountains, and then we were too far up to go back, and then we were surrounded, and we jumped a chasm and then and then and then-”

Veline gasped for air, and Elder Cinderbloom’s expression softened. “You’ve gone through quite the ordeal to find me haven’t you? Well, the least I can do is repay the favor. Sylvanas dearie, please lie down for me.” Sylvanas let her body go limp and flopped to the ground.

Elder Cinderbloom winced. “Now what I had in mind, but I suppose it will do.” She put a hand over Sylvanas broken rib, and a soft green glow began emanating from the hand. The green glow reflected off Sylvanas skin, and she felt a pleasant warmth spread through her body, knitting broken bones like flowers blooming in the light of spring. The more Luzara healed Sylvanas, the more concerned the elder looked. “By the Huntress, how were you standing captain?”

Sylvanas was deeply tempted to make a sassy comment about the Huntress of the Sun being her great grandmother, instead she chose the more salient information: “There are others, Lyana, Landra and ranger Deemspring were with us as well. We got separated, and there must be 100 trespassers crawling the Sunfeathers.”

Luzara ended her healing spell, lost in thoughts. Sylvanas felt well enough to stand, maybe even fight, if only just. Veline’s foot was swollen, and it was clear she was trying to politely indicate she would like some healing as well. “Very well.” Luzara nodded to herself, “That does limit my options somewhat, please follow me.” Without waiting, elder Cinderbloom turned on the spot and began walking downwards at a rapid pace.

* * *

Elder Cinderbloom navigated the treacherous mountainside like a ranger at home. Where Sylvanas and Veline had flickered to and fro for safe paths, elder Cinderbloom never so much as looked where she stepped. Sylvanas had question, as she was sure Veline did as well from the way she anxiously stepped in the elder’s footsteps. Given the circumstance however, Sylvanas was all too happy to have those questions answered in the elder’s time.

Within minutes they were standing by the entrance of what Sylvanas would wager her entire inheritance was not naturally formed cave. It was too well hidden, blending in as a shallow crevasse while remaining wide enough for two elves to enter shoulder to shoulder. Sylvanas was impressed, and it didn’t take a Grand Magister to realize the trespassers were seeking whatever was hidden inside.

Worship of the Ancients was widely frowned upon within noble Thalassian society. High Priest Vandelor Dawnstrike describe the faith as second only to the Sisterhood of Elune in its’ cruelty and barbarism, and he was considered a moderate on the topic. Despite the best efforts of Quel’Danas, the Ancients were still worshiped in Sylvanas home region of Underlight by commoners, and a few noble houses who knew better than to advertise it. During her time training under Ranger Lord Brightwing in the greater Tranquillien region, Sylvanas had seen her fair share of altars, and even a small temple hidden within the forest.

None of that prepared Sylvanas for suddenly coming face to face with an immense statue of the Flame of Quel’Thalas, carved out of the mountain’s innards. The Flame was a chubby woman with a sharp, almost avian face, and a pair of long, slender horns framing her wild hair. She was nude aside from jewelry made from vast amounts of brass and affixed to her stone body with rivets. Her six arms were spread out towards the entrance, in what could either be seen as a welcoming or threatening gesture depending on the viewer. At first Sylvanas had thought she was wearing a kind of shawl, but quickly realized the feathers overlapping her top-most arms were meant as wings extending from her back.

According to legends, it had been the Flame of Quel’Thalas who first taught the elves the magic of fire. In the shape of a dragon she had descended from the Sunfeather mountains and, seeing the elves struggling to survive, breathed fire in front of their eyes, like a mother showing her child how to hold the spoon. This was a point of contention with the church of Belore, who insisted fire magic had been invented by king Dath’Remar Sunstrider after dutifully observing the Sun and its grace.

“What is this place?” Veline said, stepping further inside and looking around like a lynx in a butcher’s shop.

“A secret.” Elder Cinderbloom said, and tapped her staff against the cave floor, spreading light above them. “And a sanctuary.”

Like vines growing at incredible speed, the light snaked further inside the cavern, revealing a chamber easily as large as the Windrunner manor in Silvermoon. The walls were draped in deep red fabrics and royal gold filigree. There were tapestries displaying stories long forgotten, bookcases holding heavy tomes with weathered spines, and an ancient armory, metal shimmering with powerful spells beneath thick cobwebs.

As the light reached the back of the room, it fell upon soft green moss and pink flowers, then upon crimson scales and leathery wings. Veline gasped in excitement, Sylvanas’ jaw hit the floor.

Dragons! An entire host of them lay sleeping quietly against the cavern’s back wall. There they had lain for so long that flowers and moss had started growing upon them, sunlight substituted by the magic emanating from their bodies. These were no ordinary dragons either Sylvanas realized with a shudder. Though she had never before seen a dragon outside of books and murals, Sylvanas recognized their scars and broken horns; their clipped tails, missing claws, and brass armor riveted into their flesh. These dragons were soldiers, veterans, perhaps of the war of Ancients, perhaps older still.

Elder Cinderbloom placed a caring hand on the snout of a dragon with a golden eye patch; Sylvanas couldn’t help but notice how easily she would fit into the creature’s mouth. “These are the Daughters of Flame, they are what the trespassers seek.”


	2. The Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally found some time to finish this thing, not quite happy with the final scene, but that's what happens when you write without an outline :^)

Elder Cinderbloom led Sylvanas and Veline to a pool positioned along the cavern wall. The surface was covered in a layer of green algae and reddish-pink water lilies. It was big, with borders taller than Sylvanas, which she suspected was to allow one of the dragons slumbering nearby to be fully submerged. Elder Cinderbloom gave Sylvanas an insistent poke with the back of her staff. “Well? Get in already.”

Sylvanas however, was not one to trust unknown magic idly. While she and the elder might’ve grown to become friendly acquaintances over the last few years, Sylvanas was currently reevaluating Luzara Cinderbloom, and was yet to make final judgement. “What does it do?” She grunted, and tried to conceal how much her head was aching.

“It heals with the magic of the red dragonflight captain Windrunner. Would you like me to get in first?” The mere mention of healing nearly made Sylvanas take a nosedive into the pool.

Veline had no such compulsion, she had already stripped out of her clothes as best she could and was now struggling to free her leg from the splint. She was focused on undoing Sylvanas’ knots, and didn’t notice her tongue sticking idly out of her mouth, which made Sylvanas fall in love with her all over again. Realizing Sylvanas was looking at her, Veline’s ears stood straight up, and her cheeks turned a deep red “Whuh?”

Sylvanas smiled idly and began undoing the buttons on her doublet, her hesitation gone with the wind. “Nothing dearest, I was just wondering if you wanted help with that?”

Elder Cinderbloom looked from one to the other and back again, then turned to leave. “I shall go ensure the safety of my grand daughters and ranger Deemspring, you may leave the pool once the aching ceases, but do not touch anything that isn’t yours, that includes the dragons.” Without waiting for Sylvanas and Veline to reply, she left the cave same way she came in, tapping her staff against the stone floor as she walked.

Sylvanas carefully descended the short ladder into the pool, and felt a gentle, almost caring, heat spread from her toe through her body as it broke the surface. She had to stop for a moment, frozen mid step, as she felt her dizziness wane, and her breathing become easier. “How is the water?” Veline asked, concern written across her face.

“Perfect.” Sylvanas sighed, and let herself fall backwards into the pool.

The algae of the pool wrapped themselves around Sylvanas abdomen, and Veline’s leg. Sylvanas felt her ribs being coaxed back into place by ancient magic, as torn ligaments were knitted whole with all the care and attention of a mother making a blanket for her firstborn. From the expression on Veline’s face, Sylvanas could tell she was experiencing much the same bliss.

As a ranger and a member of one the most powerful families in Quel’Thalas, Sylvanas had experience quite a few different forms of healing magic over the years, this felt like none of them. It was not the efficient snap of war magic, nor the surgical caress of light magic. It was all together more ancient.

Due to the unfamiliarity of the magic, Sylvanas had no idea how long it would take before her injuries were healed. Most of her pain had subsided quickly, replaced by a dull ache. Her mind was clear, but at peace, like climbing into a warm bed at the end of a long day. There was a faint scent, at first Sylvanas couldn’t place it; warm butter, fresh bread, a hint of spice and dark chocolate. The smell was like… her birthday party, when Veline and her rangers had brought her breakfast in bed.

_Her rangers_ ; Sylvanas was still getting used to the thought. All she had ever wanted in life was to succeed as a ranger, and by all accounts that was what she was now doing. Despite her two centuries of training, and now the watchful oversight of Ranger Lord Feathermoon, nothing had prepared Sylvanas for all the small things that came with first being a ranger then a ranger captain. She could split a copper at a 100 paces, name every venom and antidote in the Eastern Kingdom, and yet she could not keep two farmers from stealing each others’ cattle. Nor could she remember that Naela the herbalist in Tranquilsong grew uncomfortable if looked in the eyes for more than a moment, or teach kids not to steal from their neighbors gardens without traumatizing them. There were so many responsibilities as a ranger, and as captain she had nowhere else to turn. All the while her lodge expected her to be a beacon of judgment and wisdom. What would it be like if she truly did become the ranger general instead of Alleria? Was this why her mother beat them all throughout childhood? Why Sylvanas after joining the ranger corps had spent a month locked within her room, fed only biscuits so stale they had to be soaked in water to be chewed? Had her mother only been protecting her all this time?

Veline swam over to Sylvanas, her leg already much better than it was mere minutes ago. “Will you kiss me?” she asked when she reached her side, Sylvanas didn’t hesitate. With a soft smile spreading across her lips, and the woman she loved half wrapped in her arms as they idly swam about, Sylvanas couldn’t help herself from asking: “what’s the occasion.”

“Your thoughts seemed heavy, and I wanted to thank you for keeping me safe.

Sylvanas looked around the pool, the algae had mostly left their bodies, and the dull ache had been replaced with an altogether different warmth in her body; though taking action on that heat, seemed like taking advantage of elder Cinderbloom’s hospitality. “I suppose they were dearest, and we are not off the Sunfeathers yet.”

Veline snuggled up tighter. “Will you tell me about them? Your thoughts I mean.

Sylvanas braided her fingers into Veline’s “Perhaps once we are back at the lodge, though you really need not concern yourself about it.”

Veline’s lips tightened and she turned to look Sylvanas in the eyes. “I know it’s not my place to say, but I wish you would not concern yourself so much with your mother’s plans. You are a great ranger, and your subjects will bear you witness.”

Sylvanas wanted to talk further, wanted to bare her heart to Veline of all the wounds she had kept hidden so long for all but Alleria. The smirk spread across her lips all on its own accord, the words left her mouth whether or not Sylvanas wanted them to. “Great? I’m the best.”

Veline giggled, Sylvanas hugged her close.

All too quickly the ache seized, and the water turned cool and slimy. Sylvanas climbed out of the pool feeling fed and well rested. Her head was clear, her bruising gone, her ribs uncracked, and she was more than ready to get her answers.

The first place they looked were the dragons lying against the back wall. There were six in total, all about the same size and with only marginally different features, long snouts and straight horns one and all. Perhaps the title “Daughters of Flame” was more literal than Sylvanas had thought, and these were literally the clutch of the Flame of Quel’Thalas. “How long do you suppose they’ve been here?” Veline asked, idly brushing cobwebs off the horn of a dragon with two prosthetic gold claws on its left front paw.

Sylvanas traced the intricate, flowing pattern of a gold plate embedded into a dragon’s flesh to close a wound. “Hard to say. Could be mere centuries, could be the dawn of Quel’Thalas, could be older than the sundering. The moss and dust speak of ages of stagnation, yet the gold shines as if the servant’s rag had just left it.” One of the dragons snorted when Sylvanas put her weight against its’ side, yet remained in deep slumber.

Dragons were figures of legend, though not myth. Too many stories spoke too clearly of the flight of dragons over the well of eternity; of the madness of Deathwing, and the five who became four. However, which flight was the flight of Deathwing, neither of them remembered. It could well be the red dragonflight they thought; red was the color of sunset, of anguish and sorrow and fire that burned the world. Alleria would have known, she had been obsessed with dragons since before Sylvanas was born, and to this day she still carried the draconic charm she had made as a child with her for good luck.

When the dragons failed to keep their interest, Sylvanas and Veline went clockwise around the cavern. They found a tapestry that neither of them understood. Too many unknown dragons and shapes made unrecognizable by the march of time. Sylvanas believed it was meant to show two women in a shouting match, Veline insisted she saw a horse making croissants. Because of the damages, the tapestry didn’t reach all the way to the floor, and behind it, they could see the outline of another room. With a quick smile to each other, and a torch of magelight burrowed from the wall, they pulled aside the tapestry like a curtain and walked inside.

Alleria would have cum untouched!

The room was an armory! Six matching, though far from identical, suits of armor stood neatly aligned around the room. Each one painted bright red with gold filigree and dragon iconography hidden under a thick layer of dust. The magic inscribed upon them was so powerful, Sylvanas was nearly salivating, and as if that wasn’t enough; next to each suit sat a collection of weapons! Real weapons, made of high-grade, flexible steel, meant for warfare not self-defense.

A stray thought brought Sylvanas an epiphany: Sylvanas remembered a drawing, stolen from Alleria’s room as a teenager and kept as blackmail forever since. Upon the small parchment, Alleria had drawn herself upon an empty road, a lute strapped to her back, a dashing feather in her hat, a dragon brooch where should be the Oak of house Windrunner, and a traveling cape billowing in the wind. A cape painted with red ink normally reserved for funerals, because as Alleria had told her “to dragons, red is the color of life.”

"Oh, that's good right?" Veline said, her attention all but taken up by a paired set of gauntlets, vambraces and spaulders that had been chained to the cavern wall.

"I would expect that reduced the likelihood of us getting eaten significantly yes, but I am also far from a draconologist." The armguards were made of large red scales, draped over a frame of bone reinforced with slivers of golden steel; perhaps the remains of a rival? or a less fortunate Daughter? The gauntlets ended in heavy talons that enveloped the fingers entirely. And when Veline poked them, they tried to grasp at her despite the chains keeping them bound.

"I would be careful with those children, once worn they come off only with the wearers skin." As if sensing their disobedience of her orders, elder Cinderbloom returned to the cavern with Jennalla and her grandchildren in tow. They all looked worse for wear, but none to the extend Sylvanas and veline had arrived in.

* * *

With Jenn and the twins healing in the pool, Sylvanas and Veline cornered Elder Cinderbloom by it's edge. "Now, will you tell us what sort of plot we have stumbled our way into?

The elder's outwards calmness was slowly giving way to fear. "The brigands are swarming the mountain, it's only a matter of time before they find this place."

Sylvanas crossed her arms. "And we would be happy to help, once you tell us the whole story."

Elder Cinderbloom gasped in insult, Jenn and Lya glared daggers at her, but Sylvanas remained unmoved. "Have it your way. This place was build to hide the clutch of the Flame of Quel'Thalas. They wait in slumber until the Dragonqueen next flies over the Sunfeather mountains. I am the sworn guardian of this place, have been since this staff first fell into my hands a millennia ago. I know not how the brigands learned of this place, nor their goals for it, though I have heard stories of the value of dragonhide. Did that sate your curiosity ranger captain?"

Sylvanas had no love for trespassers, but even less desire to go in uninformed. “And why is this the first I’m hearing of sleeping dragons within my lodge?”

“Because, _captain Windrunner_ , the purpose of a secret is generally to keep as many uninformed of it as possible, but now needs must, though if you would like, I can in the future be sure to leave you at the mercy of brigands.”

“No need, by next dawn there will be none left on _my_ mountain, you have my word as a ranger.” Sylvanas made a big show of rolling up her sleeves, only for elder Cinderbloom to interject.

“Technically, this is lord Feathermoon’s mountain.”

“Eh, details.” Sylvanas said with a dismissive wave and turned to face the armory. “Now, I believe I saw both bow and arrows in there, do you suppose the Daughters will mind if we borrow them?”

* * *

“We know the brigands are poorly trained and worse equipped, what else?” Sylvanas spoke as she and Lyana helped Jennalla don a cuirass. Given the circumstances, elder Cinderbloom had let them supply themselves from the armory, with the exception of Hunger, the armguards chained to the wall.

“They have mages in their number, as best I can tell all amateurs and specialized in war magic.” Landra said, arriving with a fourth set of pauldrons for her sister to try on.

“Self taught?” Sylvanas handed the gauntlet she had been trying on to Veline who returned it to the rack.

“I don’t know human standards of education, but they would certainly be laughed out of any study hall in Quel’Thalas, probably Dalaran too.” Landra’s ears dropped as these pauldrons too failed to fit her sister’s wide shoulders.

“A toddler with a knife is still armed.” Jennalla said, cheering slightly when one of Lyana’s rejected pauldrons turned out to fit her.

Sylvanas nodded. “Suppose the trespassers were brought in by portals then?”

Landra took a moment to run the numbers in her head. “No, they would have needed vastly more powerful mages to accomplish that, and they couldn’t have left them behind without another way to escape.”

“Or, they would have needed an ally within Quel’Thalas.” Elder Cinderbloom said grimly.

Landra looked ready to begin a discussion on the theoretical feasibility of doing just that, so Sylvanas interrupted. “A matter for the Farstriders then… What else do we know of the enemy? There must be some sheppard herding these goatlickers right?”

“I overheard some of the brigands get lectured by a long haired, feminine presenting human, she was wearing dwarven made armor.” As she spoke, Jennalla untied her bun, allowing her locs to fit underneath a coif.

“Could not have more clearly painted herself the leader without a herald to accompany her. It might be a trap.” Sylvanas contemplatively scratched her chin with an arrow head. “Or maybe she leads by might alone.”

“Do you have a plan captain Windrunner?” Lyana said, strapping a hefty battleaxe with a single gilded blade to her belt.

“When do I ever not?” Sylvanas smiled and unfolded a map no one knew when she’d had the time to draw.

* * *

Lanah Movai was all around not having a good time. Of all the grueling, menial, unpleasant tasks, in poor company, house Prestor had sent her on, this was certainly the worst one yet. Opening a portal to the elven lands past their barrier had been hard enough even with the anchor in place; how in the Light’s name they were going to get back to the estate with several dragons in tow, and Mouritzen, Steenstraap and Barboza all dead Lanah did not know. Lady Oliviera however seemed certain it could be done, and what a Prestor wanted, she got.

Still, after 48 hours they were no closer to finding the sleeping dragons, and it didn’t take a noble to realize the men were getting antsy. Lanah didn’t care how many of their numbers they had lost to knife wielding elf maids, the next two-silver mercenary who made a lewd comment towards her was getting his dick seared off, mana conservation be damned.

That was the worst part about this mission, being forced to stay close to the mercenaries or risk being picked off by the elves. Lanah had already squared off against one of the elves, a dark skinned woman with curly hair. Thinking her magic gave her the upper hand, Lanah had gone in full blaze, only for the elf maiden to snuff out her flames like a candle in the wind with a single swing of her sword. And who knew how many more of them were hiding among these Light forsaken mountains.

Lanah took a deep, steadying breath, this was a hurdle, nothing more. Lady Oliviera Prestor was leading them, they still had almost 60 men left, and enough mages to level a mansion square. They had been reckless and paid the price, they knew better now.

After almost 3 hours of no elven encounters, and night quickly falling, Lanah was starting to hope they had finally given up their pursuit after realizing they couldn’t break them up any further. Then suddenly she sensed a slight magical disturbance, barely more than a whisper, no doubt a spell woven by elven hands. And just like that it was gone again.

With a wave of her hand, 10 men moved with her in the direction of the spell. They arrived but found no spellcaster, only a scrap of deep red silk stuck to a thorn.

When lady Oliviera heard what she found, she turned the entire mercenary force down the most likely escape path for the elf maid. Marching triple file along an unstable mountain road, Lanah thought they might as well announce their position with brass instruments, but despite it, they quickly caught a glance of platinum blonde hair in the distance, scampering from hiding spot to hiding spot.

Oliviera spurred the mercenaries onward, forcing them to run against their better judgment. Long hours of studying in the Prestor estate, had left Lanah in less than ideal running shape. As she lacked behind she was able to witness the mercenaries stumbling off and pushing each other to their doom in their fear of Oliviera’s whip and eagerness to catch the elf maid. The path sloped upwards, and there at the top of it, stood the elf maid they had been chasing. She was wearing exquisite armor that outshone even Oliviera’s, and an infuriating smirk as she got her hair in order and pulled on a helmet.

Lanah felt the weave of magic being disturbed above them. She reached out to counterspell it, and found herself trapped in the labyrinthine ways of elven magic. Like a child swept under by strong waves, she was suddenly fighting just to breathe, powerless to stop the explosions ringing out above them.

And then came the rock slide.

* * *

The plan had worked exactly as in her head, Sylvanas was almost disappointed.

The rocks had fallen at the perfect time, leaving those that were not dead or dying in no mind to fight. Though doing so had exhausted both Landra and Elder Cinderbloom. Jennalla and Lyana were standing behind her, waiting to pick off any stragglers. Sylvanas glowered down at the humans, hoping they would take the hint and surrender. Most of them did without a second thought, a few even begged for mercy, others tried to form a haphazard shield wall. That proved a dilemma for Sylvanas, she could either strike first while they were still unsure on their feet, or hope they followed their compatriots example and yielded. The choice was taken away from her when the rocks that had settled on the mountain path began shifting.

First a scaled tail emerged, then a pair of leathery wings, followed by a set of purple-ish black claws, and finally a horned head the size of Sylvanas chest.

Sylvanas swore under her breath, the black dragon shed the remains of its’ clothes and armor like old hide as it took to the skies and the brigands rallied around it.

“What do we do?” Lyana said, her voice shrill with fear, her eyes flickering back and forth between the dragon and the outcrop where her sister and grandmother were recuperating.

Before Sylvanas could formulate her response, the dragon swooped low, unhinging its jaw, and letting fire fly.

Had it not been for Obstinance, that would have been the end of all three rangers. Jennalla let bow and arrow fall, drawing her sword and moving into the dragon’s way. With a shriek, she swung the ancient blade against the rolling fire, the golden runes on the black blade lit up, and Jennalla’s voice was joined by a deep, rumbling roar, coming from deep within the steel. Like water crashing against rocks, the fire dissipated, leaving the three of them shaken but unharmed.

“How many more times can you do that?” Sylvanas said, strongly contemplating marrying into house Deemspring.

“I would rather not find out.”

Sylvanas didn’t begrudge her that, but they couldn’t both look to the skies and fight the brigands coming from below “Okay.” Sylvanas nodded to herself, determination hiding traces of fear for what she was about to do. “Deal with the infantry, I’ll keep the lizard busy.” Armor made for dragons had to be at least partially fireproof, right?

The dragon was moving in close for another attack. Sylvanas infused her shot with mana, and the golden arrowhead began emitting plumes of scarlet fire. That was very much not part of her plan, but she wasn’t one to look a gift enchanted arrow in the mouth.

The dragon locked eyes with her, Sylvanas aimed for the left one, and shot. The dragon only barely managed to turn aside its head. The arrow struck its side at an awkward angle, fracturing the shaft, and sending the still burning arrowhead careening through its wings.

The damage was minimal, the dragon still flew, and now it was turning to face Sylvanas. She made a rude gestured, shot an un-infused arrow in its general direction, and moved to higher ground.

She got almost 100 steps up the mountainside before the dragon returned for another strafing run. Up here, the ground was uneven, jagged and sloped. It had always been their plan to retreat here if their trap failed, the same rocks that would have stopped the brigands using the weight of their numbers, would hopefully block dragonfire just as well.

The dragon came from the side, spraying a wide cone of fire. Sylvanas flung herself into a crevice, taking care not to land on the bow. The fire singed her tips, leaving her otherwise unharmed, she was due for a trim anyways.

Still hiding in her crevice, Sylvanas infused another arrow with mana. So long as she paced herself, she could fire arcane shots until she ran out of arrow. Once again a scarlet flame sprang from the tip, and Sylvanas took that as her cue to jump out and return fire.

The dragon was nowhere to be found when Sylvanas once again came within view. She had underestimated her opponent, thought of it as a dumb animal, rather than an immense creature with the lifespan of an elf.

Next thing she knew the ground was shifting, and the dragon leapt upon her in a shower of rocks and dirt. Sylvanas rolled between its’ claws, and the dragon rose to stand on its hind legs to continue slashing at her.

Sylvanas narrowly avoided first getting stomped then getting swept by its tail. So the dragon took flight, but in doing so left its wings open, and Sylvanas wasted no time in firing at it. The scarlet fire streaked a path across the early night sky, severing the fourth finger at the inner joint. The dragon screamed and descended, unable to fly without furthering its injury.

It landed, ready to breathe fire any and every which way, but Sylvanas was already out of sight. It might be a clever beast, but it was still a beast, and beasts Sylvanas could fight.

Or so she thought. Suddenly fired roared around her hiding place, Sylvanas had no choice but to curl into a ball and hope for it to pass quickly.

It didn’t. The dragon wasn’t doing a sweep, it was pummeling her cover . How had it known where she was? It would had to have reasoned based on its view as it descended and the shape of the mountain where she could have gone. It was a very clever beast indeed.

Though if it was so clever, why was it breathing waves upon waves of fire upon rocks? Surely it wasn’t expecting to melt through them? Then it hit Sylvanas; of course it wasn’t, it was trying to shock her! Keep her contained and in fear as it approached.

Sylvanas took a deep breath, steadying her nerves and listening for the sound of the dragon’s footsteps but found none, only the roar of yet more fire. It was stepping in sync with its’ breath.

Great, there went Sylvanas last chance for a counter. What the Sun was she gonna do now? She couldn’t even re-position without getting near the dragon’s fire.

Much as she hated to think it, this could well be her end. Oh Alleria would be absolutely insufferable if Sylvanas died first.

The fire stopped, and Sylvanas gave herself no time to think, breaking into a sprint without caring for direction.

When no fire or dragon claws came in pursuit she turned, and found the dragon now charging on all four against Lyana and Jennalla. Four red-fletched arrows, still thrumming with arcane energy, were buried in its’ side, two in its belly two in its throat.

Sylvanas nocked, a second wave of dragonfire was turned to nothing by the magic of Obstinance. Sylvanas fired into the dragon’s calf, bringing its’ charge to a skittering halt.

Dust flew everywhere, Lyana and Jennalla leapt for their lives, Sylvanas couldn’t get a clear shot.

The three rangers fanned out in a two-thirds circle around the dragon. It was a tactic created for skirmishing with Amani war bears; the dragon could not charge one of them, without being open to fire from the other two. “Yield.” Sylvanas commanded, even though she had frankly no idea how they would constrain a dragon if it did surrender.

The dragon spun around on the spot, gauging it’s chances. The rangers’ ears stood on end, listening for the deep rumble they had learned meant incoming dragonfire. It didn’t even have a chance to open its’ mouth before arcane shots rained down upon it. The rangers traded accuracy for speed, as none of them were certain how to land a killing shot on a creature that size.

Black scales were pierced and scorched time and time again. The dragon howled in pain, and took off on a mad dash towards the edge of the plateau. Its’ hind legs were injured to near uselessness but it was fleeing for its’ life and barely felt the pain.

It leapt, flapping its torn wings frantically to no avail. It sailed downwards, crashing through the treeline south of the Sunfeather mountains, leaving a trail of torn earth as it skittered to a halt.

Lyana and Jennalla came to look down the mountain beside Sylvanas. “Do you suppose it survived that?” Lyana was holding her borrowed axe in a loose grip, a little disappointed she hadn’t let it taste dragon flesh.

Sylvanas strained her eyes, looking for any sign of movements below and found none. “If it did, it landed outside my jurisdiction. Come, let us return the venerable elder Cinderbloom to her home, before they send out search parties for the search party.”

Her rangers followed behind as she walked back towards the sanctuary, but she could tell they weren’t satisfied with her answer, so she stopped and faced them. “Against all the odds, we made it out of this with no casualties. We’ve fought, we’ve bled, we’ve drafted civilian mages into military service. By the sun we brought down a dragon!” Sylvanas could sense prideful smiles pulling at both rangers’ lips. “The Farstriders will arrive soon enough to take the glory of our broken bones, nothing we do will stop them. so I say: fucking let them! If the Ranger General’s shadows want to play heroes, the least they can do is handle the cleanup. Let’s spend what luck we have left on keeping elder Cinderbloom’s secret and getting home before break of dawn. Then while the Farstriders are combing the mountains for stragglers, we’ll be drinking cherry wine, and singing songs the priests would disapprove of.”

Whether it was the promise of celebration, or the freedom from boring tracking work, both of Sylvanas’ rangers were now smiling. “And fuck each other into a stupor!?” Lyana suggested, exhaustion having robbed her of any sense of subtlety.

Sensing her hesitation, Jennalla nudged her shoulder and added. “Veline can come too.”

Sylvanas smirked. “Oh you have no idea how much that girl can cum.”

Jenn smirked back. “Perhaps its time I found out.”

* * *

It went exactly as Sylvanas had foreseen. Alleria and three other Farstriders arrived at the Aurendar lodge just as Sylvanas had untangled herself from the aftermath of her “vigorous morning exercise”. Lyana and Jenn had to scramble to hide Veline, lest Alleria found out her sister was still involved with a peasant.

The Farstriders were all too happy to handle the mission without “cattle chasers” getting in their way. By the end of the week, the only thing anyone talked about from Thas’Alah to Quel’Danas was how the Farstriders had fought and slain not just a dragon but a 100 human brigands in its’ employ atop the Sunfeather mountains. Bards were already writing songs, and they were annoyingly catchy.

The only satisfaction Sylvanas had was that the Farstriders never found the sanctuary, so Alleria never had the chance to see a red dragon. Yes Sylvanas’ could never tell her, but that only seemed a fair trade for Alleria keeping her out of their investigation.

Against expectations, the black dragon had survived the fall, it had told the Farstriders two names, it’s own: Auveria, and that of her mistress: Sinestra Prestor. The Farstriders were thus sent to the infant kingdom of Stormwind far to the south, to enact the law of broken twigs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus I return to writing ACTUAL warbringer's wife plot, with an outline and story archs and everything.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr [@Offbrand-Valk](https://offbrand-valk.tumblr.com/)


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